


Couples Costume

by SlothSpaghetti



Series: Sleepless In Stark Towers [12]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Developing Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Social Media, costume shopping, mention of self harm, stressful time shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlothSpaghetti/pseuds/SlothSpaghetti
Summary: Where all the cool people get their Halloween costumes
Relationships: Tony Stark/OFC, Tony Stark/Reader
Series: Sleepless In Stark Towers [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965925
Comments: 9
Kudos: 81





	1. Your PoV

**❤️💛** **_Daddy_ ** **💛❤️** _ \- Couples costume ideas. Go. _

**_You-_ ** _ Mario and Luigi  _

**_You-_ ** _ Salt n Pepa _

**_You-_ ** _ Edward and Bella _

**_You-_ ** _ Ron Swanson and Steak _

**_You-_ ** _ Michael and Dwight _

**_You-_ ** _ Ash and Picachu _

**❤️💛** **_Daddy_ ** **💛❤️** _ \- you’re fired from the costume committee _

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

That short text exchange is how I ended up at some bougie, glorified costume store with Tony the Wednesday before Halloween. I didn’t ever think about where famous people got their costumes for Halloween. I guess a part of me assumed they had them custom made especially for a party or they did what the rest of us plebeians did and bought costumes off Amazon and hoped for the best. 

Apparently, there were secret, swanky ass costume supply stores for only the rich and famous. 

Happy was driving today. Thankfully the drive from campus was only to this place in Brooklyn. At least we weren't heading back into Manhattan, I felt bad enough as it was wasting Happy’s time with this errand. He was head of security, though Tony still treated him like his bodyguard. A bus could have certainly gotten me there just as fast. I could have easily met Tony there. 

Or so I thought. 

Happy pulled into an underground tunnel that required a key pass to get into, a key pass you only got if you booked an appointment ahead of time so it could be cycle courier-ed to your billing address. That tunnel led us to an underground parking garage that was lined with fancy, decked out cars like the one we were in.

We parked up and our trio walked over to a sleek elevator bank. Happy pushed a button for a mid-level floor, before leaning back against the railing. Both men were wearing suits, Tony's a bit more casual without a tie and the collar open. In contrast, I wore my nicest black leggings and the longest flannel shirt I owned. The shirt at least kinda looked like a dress and my big scarf was nice and fluffy, but homemade. I stood out like a sore thumb. The next time I was home, I would have to bring back some of my nice clothes if I was to continue being around Tony… which I desperately wanted to do.

And if his tactileness was anything to go by, he wanted to be around me too. On the ride over, the moment I was buckled in, his arm was around my shoulder and his other hand was on my knee. Just like that night in his car, he asked if that was okay and it made my stomach flutter. This new concept of consent that I hadn't experienced before. 

At family gatherings, it was never a question. Family members grabbed and hugged and pulled at me even when I had asked them not to. If anything that would egg them on to rub my shoulders or slap the side of my leg. It was always in good fun, even when they reeked of cheap beer and chewing tobacco.

And don’t even get me started on Nathan...

Right now, however, Tony's hand was innocently anchoring me in the elevator. His warm palm in mine kept my feelings of being unworthy of this experience and his attention at bay. The pad of his thumb made lazy strokes against mine. I just wanted to fall into him, rest my head on his shoulder, and sleep away the stress of the past 24 hours. 

But all too soon there was an overhead ding and the doors opened.

If you could imagine one of those high-end bridal stores, like the ones from Say Yes To The Dress, but all blacks and grays instead of white, you’d have this… store? Knowing now just how weird and hipster Brooklyn was, they’d probably call this place an experience. A part of me was inclined to believe it. There were displays of costumes, organized by concept and color. Shop assistants hurried around with long dresses, suits, and headdresses while celebrities and society’s elite stood on platforms surrounded by mirrors and their entourages. 

We walked up to the small reception desk, where a witchy looking man with a buzz cut took the key pass from Happy. He informed us our stylist would be with us in a moment, but that the complimentary bar was open just to our left.  _ What kind of costume store has a bar?  _

Shrieks and giggles surrounded us as we moved to the bar. I peered at the menu, looking for anything that wasn’t alcoholic. Tony and Happy were pulled into separate conversations, leaving me to awkwardly flag down the bartender. 

“Hi, sorry,” I started, fingers digging into the weave of my scarf. “Would it be possible to just get a coffee with milk and sugar?”

“No problem, Miss, I’ve got some pumpkin spice creamer if you’d like,” she smiled sweetly at me.

“Oh, yes please,” I smiled back when a fancy tray was set in front of me.

The bartender set a small black saucer with a skull design etched in the center on the tray with a matching teacup. Next to that, she placed a matching sugar pot with a skull-shaped spoon. She poured the creamer into a tiny black jug and placed it next to the sugar. Finally, a full teapot, also black and etched with a spooky, beautiful skull, was placed on the tray. The first cup was poured for me by the bartender. 

I gushed and thanked her before I took my phone out of my pocket. This was definitely going on my Instagram stories. I took a boomerang of my sugar falling off the spoon and into the coffee, revealing the little skull.  _ They take spooky season serious here, _ was all I wrote before adding a little skull sticker in the corner. 

A splash of the creamer was added to my coffee and I picked up the cup. The lovely autumnal scents filled my senses and I sighed. Tony’s left the person he was talking to, some fancy looking dude in a suit, wrapped his hand around my waist, pressing into my side. I hummed and took a sip of my coffee while he requested a second cup. 

“This is amazing,” I complimented the bartender when she poured a second cup for Tony.

“You wanna do a boom?” I asked when it was just us. 

“I-uh, a what?” He asked, taking a careful sip of his black coffee. 

“A boomerang for insta stories, it’s like a gif,” I pulled out my phone again and showed him the sugar pour video I did. 

“Are you gonna tag me in it?” He asked and I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Why would he want to be associated with me?

“Only if you want me to,” I stuttered out. 

“Of course I do, show me how to do a boom.” 

The little video was simple, just out teacups clinking together then pulling back. His hand remained on my waist while I typed out a silly message about coffee being best enjoyed with company and pinning Tony’s username to his mug. Behind our cups clearly was the etched skull on the teapot.

I couldn’t get the smile off my face. Even as we finished our coffee and I was explaining how I pulled an all-nighter working on civ paper so I wouldn’t have to work on it this weekend. My anxiety about being here was melting away and I felt almost normal. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark, are you ready for your appointment to begin,” a tall, lean man in a black turtleneck sweater appeared next to us. Was everyone here actually a witch?

“You ready, Honey?” Tony asked me, downing the last of his coffee. 

I nodded and we were guided further into the store. It was a labyrinth of costumes and people and there was no way I’d be able to find our way back to the car now. If I were somehow separated from Tony, this store would have to become my home. Although a part of me hoped he would come and find me after he realized I wasn’t in the car.

There was a small area, similar to the ones nearer the front of the store, sectioned off for us. A small card with ‘Stark’ printed in a neat, but somehow spooky, font was placed on a dressing room door. Was it weird that that made me feel kinda giddy? Also, was it weird that I suddenly thought about how nice my name sounded with his?  _ Yeah, it’s totally fucking weird.  _

“So will you only be attending your own party Mr. Stark, or will you need me to cross-reference your costumes with the others in our database to assure there is no crossover?”

“Just mine,” he confirmed, taking a seat on the black, velvet couch.

“And what sort of vibe are you looking for this year? Spooky and sophisticated? We’ve had quite a few people interested in the old timie gangster costume do the popularity of  _ The Irishman _ . We’ve also had several guests ask about Tiger King costumes.”

“You still wanna do a couple's costume, right Baby?” Tony asked me, taking me out of my last names induced daze. 

“Uh, yeah, if we can find something we both like,” I smiled, but it faltered when I saw the assistant eyeing me up and down. 

“Let me see what we’ve got,” he started tapping on the tablet in his hand and wandered back to the main floor. 

I grimaced and walked over to sit next to Tony. I knew what that phrasing meant, the deeper, unsubtle way of saying ‘let’s see if we actually have anything in your size’. That kind of response normally meant no, we don’t carry your size. With a deep breath, I mentally prepared myself for the inevitable. There would be no tears, I promised myself. I would apologize to Tony and then we’d find him a nice costume. I would wrestle something up from Amazon or whatever. My head fell on Tony's shoulder, already feeling too emotional and exhausted for this. 

Overhead, Thriller began to play over the stereo system. It was finally quiet enough to hear the music. The louder customers seemed to have vacated the store and honestly, I was grateful. I wrapped my fingers around Tony’s freehand, while his other furiously typed away at his phone. Again, the warmth of his hand in mine helped ground me. It gave me something to focus on, rather than my spiraling thoughts about shopping. 

Our stylist and another shop assistant rolled two long racks to our section. Both of them filled to the brim with costumes. 

“These are all the costumes we have, that have a partner, available for Saturday night,” the man began plucking out different pieces.

Okay so maybe now I was terrified for a different reason. I’d never had so much choice in clothing in my whole life. 

“Now if you step into the dressing room, I think these would be the best ones to start with,” several jumpsuits and dresses in varying lengths were hung up in the dressing room. 

He looked at me, expectantly, and it took a good minute for me to actually understand the words that came out of his mouth. I took off my scarf and dropped it down next to Tony. 

The first dress I put on was a flashy, noir lounge singer dress. It was shiny gold sequined material clung to my skin in all the wrong ways. It was too long as well, nearly catching my socked feet when I stepped out of the dressing room. The thin, jeweled spaghetti strap kept falling off my shoulder, risking me flashing everyone in the store. The look on my face and the stylist's face said it all to Tony. This wasn’t the look for me, despite the way his gaze traveled over my body. 

The second outfit was a leopard print jumpsuit. The stylist handed me a headband with cat ears on it before I stepped out. There was an initial moment of anxiety. This costume hid nothing, any fold, any roll I had was on display. At least I could wear a bra with this one, but that didn’t really make me feel any better. 

Tony laughing also did not help. 

“I’m sorry, it’s not - I’m sorry,” he cleared his throat, “you look ridiculous and unhappy in that, but those cat ears are too much.”

He started laughing again and it soon became contagious. We laughed at how ridiculous I looked, not at me in the costume, but at the costume itself. I wasn’t sure how anyone could pull this look off. I grabbed my phone from the dressing room and took a short video of Tony laughing so hard his face scrunched up and his head flung back. I then swiveled to the mirror to reveal my costume before busting my gut over how much worse it truly looked in the mirror. 

“Can I send that to Peter?” I asked, tossing my phone in his direction before going back to the dressing room. 

The next three outfits were also duds. My vibe was definitely not Sexy Pirate™, Sexy Jack The Ripper™, or a Wonder Woman™. 

“Peter has responded with all the lyrics to Memory,” Tony called out.

“Can you send him a gif from the Cats trailer for me?” 

The music shifted, only just audible. I wasn’t even really paying attention to it as I slid on a pink, puffy cupcake dress. The large-cap sleeves were nearly the size of my head and the sweetheart neckline was edged with blue ribbon. 

“I think this may be worse than the catsuit,” I opened the changing room door. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Princess,” Tony hid his laugh behind his fist. “Why do you keep snapping?”

“What?”

“You keep snapping your fingers,” looked at my hands.

Then I heard the song over my head. The sound of a harpsichord and the familiar snapping finally penetrating the fog of my mind. 

“Oh I’m gonna have that stuck in my head all day,” I sighed.

“Mr. Stark, have you ever tied a corset?” Our stylist asked. I looked at the man, what on earth did he think I was going to wear?

“Sure, who hasn’t?”

I wanted to say me because honestly who has tied a corset before? This wasn’t Victorian times. Only the Kardashians wear those things. 

“Then I think we have the perfect couples costume for you,” a wicked grin spread across the stylist’s face. 

Five minutes later, I had been cinched and laced up into a long black satin gown with longer thick lace sleeves and black leather corset with satin details. Our stylist tied it just tight enough to support my chest and to keep me from popping out of the harsh, low cut, square neckline. 

Okay, so when I looked in the mirror even I was impressed with this costume. Or goth chic dress. I don’t know if it really counts as a costume. 

Even as the heat rose to my cheeks I felt confident in the dress. The sleeves were a bit annoying and I'd have to find some heels to wear, but this was the best I felt in any of them. The material didn't cling to my skin, it draped over my body with ease. I released my hair from its bun on top of my head. The kinks left from my ponytail didn’t give the full effect of gossamer curtains of hair, but it gave me an idea of what it could look like. 

It wasn’t until I stepped out that I realized why this was probably the worst costume I’d tried on. How the fuck I didn’t notice a slit that went clean up to my hip was beyond me. It was probably because it was on my non-dominant side. My first step out of the dressing room had been covered by the flowy fabric. Then the breeze from the air conditioning unit hit my exposed thigh. 

I saw Tony’s eyes flick down to my thigh, a single band-aid surrounded by the faintest lines. Lines that I would forget about sometimes honestly when I was having an especially good day or even week. If I’d met expectations, excelled beyond the requirements of my parents and classes, I’d feel almost content. 

But one shitty call from my mom on Tuesday sent me into a spiral. My fingers were jamming stupid quarters into the washing machine, while all I heard on the other line was how Kelsey was thriving in her sorority, how Nathan would still sit with them at church, how unsurprised she was I couldn’t even get a decent grade on an entry-level math course. She’d gone to school on a full-ride, she didn’t need her parents' assistance. May didn’t need help getting into college, she was able to do it on her own. If I just stopped being selfish, I could have gone to IU on a free ride and none of the bad things would be happening. I wouldn’t be drowning in debt. I wouldn’t be single. 

I needed to feel something, anything to alleviate the crushing sense of inadequacy. I needed to be punished for my poor grade in calculus. But most importantly, I needed to take back control from my mother. So I did the only thing I knew how to do. Another little ‘x’ to make my equilibrium come back to me so I wasn’t drowning in grey muck. 

“You are beautiful, Babygirl.”

Tony was standing in front of me. He took my hand and pulled me onto the small platform.

“We almost look the part already,” he smirked at our reflection. 

“You think so?” I whispered, feeling the heat rise to my face again.

“Absolutely,” he hummed against my skin, pulling me closer to him. “You are everything.”


	2. Tony's PoV

I watched you. 

I wasn’t sure what else to do.

Well I could have been paying attention to the conference call I was on with Pepper and the Hong Kong team… but I couldn’t shake that look you gave me. It was like one moment you were with me, stepping out in that fucking… glorious dress, then it was like your eyes glazed over. You were a million miles away. 

The stylist had run off to get a wig or something, but I didn’t pay him any attention. My focus was fully on you. The fact that there was an Iron Man band-aid on your upper thigh concerned me. 

What happened? What could I do? 

I hadn't lied when I said you were everything. 

For fuck's sake, we've made out twice and I was ready to burn down the whole damn city for you. I wanted to do anything to keep you smiling and happy and content. 

So when you asked to stay the night to work on readings and homework of course I said yes. Anything to spend more time with you. A blanket I hadn't ever seen before appeared around you and you fell down onto the couch in my lab to begin working.

"Mr. Stark, what do you think of these prototypes?"

I flicked my gaze away from the fuzzy burrito on my couch to the tablet in my hand that had the schematics for a new power converter unit.

"Yeah, that should work fine, I'd up the wattage safety stop. Don't want anything blowing up." 

I cut the team from the call, leaving it to just me and Pepper.

"Tony, did you even listen to the call?" Pepper did not sound pleased with me.

"No, but that's because they were boring." I spun around on my stool, wheeling myself to my monitor.

"They are trying to make the company money, you know that thing that needs to happen so we can all keep our jobs," Pepper was definitely upset with me.

"Pep, please, we've had excellent quarter after excellent quarter. You are the one trying to convince me to open another European HQ," I started typing, working on a new idea for Nat's Black Widow Bites.

"Yes, so we can keep up with the competition."

"Ughhhhh, fine, fine, fine, I will actually think about it." I pulled up a holographic design of the gloves, "are you coming to the party on Saturday?"

"Yeah, Phil and I will be there."

"Why are you bringing Agent Coulson?" I paused my rotating mockup.

"Tony, get over your annoyance with Phil. We'll see you on Saturday."

Pepper ended the call and JARVIS cut through on my end. He confirmed the call and presentation had been saved to the servers for that project if I wanted to review them in the future but I doubted I'd ever look at them. This was basic R&D shit, nothing truly innovative or interesting.

The shock cartridge designs were sent off to the 3D printer and I swiped away the hologram. I looked over at the unmoving fluff ball on my couch. The only thing telling me you were still awake was the subtle sounds of paper being shifted as you turned your page. I pulled up the side project I started Monday night/Tuesday morning after the weekly call with your father. 

Again, I checked that you were still slowly flipping through your art history book, unaware that my call had even ended. The small gold-colored hologram was swiped up onto my desk and I expanded the layers. I knew it was too soon to give you this now, but I wanted it ready for when the moment felt right. 


End file.
